


Time Lord

by timeheist



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 02:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2092029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeheist/pseuds/timeheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Omega does something with time and space, and meets the Eleventh Doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Lord

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I was still deluding myself that the cracks in Eleven's reign had something to do with Omega. I am still deluding myself.

It was all set. Vandeceerium was making the final arrangements to the stock and storage, Rassilon was out of the way being political and conceited, and Omega had a little time to himself during which he could put the finishing touches to his creations. Time travel, at his fingertips! To say that he was excited would be a grave understatement. And to think that all of Gallifrey had laughed at him; spurned his ambitions, called him a fool. And the omega grade that had earned him the nickname which he was now saddled with, forever to be known as Omega (the hopefully Great) rather than Peylix (the Annoyingly Curious)... That had been for the self same theories he was now putting into play, in a fully-funded mission to establish time travel. All that they needed to do now was harness the power of a star - he had found a suitable one months ago - and collapse it to create a singularity at his will. What could go wrong? A brilliant (no, the best) cosmic engineer in the universe wasn't about to be stopped by the mere laws of temporal physics!

He paced, thinking, the metal Hand of Omega fitting him like a glove (no pun intended) and quelling what few fears he had left. It helped, having a physical manifestation of his genius to hand (again, no pun intended); it reminded him that this was plausible, that he knew it was possible, and that he would succeed. He would show Raz that time travel was more than just a fool's errand and a publicity stunt. If the Time Lords could manage it before any other race in the known universe, they would be all powerful! It was laughable to leave the responsibility up to anyone else. Even allowing Vandeceerium to come along was only so that he would have an assistant to hand him a spanner and get out of the way. The lad was bright, yes, but he was no Omega!

The Gallifreyan sighed. Time Lord, he called himself, to the dismay of all who laughed. When they had time travel and the TARDISes at their disposal, they would adopt the name, too, and worship the ground that he walked upon. They would see his genius. But when had he grown so... Conceited? How he remained President Rassilon's friend, even after the man had overthrown the Pythia, he was never sure; there were just so many differences in personality, character, even stature! While Rassilon was broad, striking and apparently 'mighty', Peylix himself was considerably shorter, lean, and every bit a scientist. To the laboratory goggles poised on the top of his head right down to the welding gloves on his hands, even underneath the metal contraption he was so fond of. His first real creation, a far leap from the trinkets he had created in the Academy and his first attempts at building a TARDIS along with the 'help' of Rassilon and the Other', as Gallifrey called their friends... It was a symbol of everything that they stood for, the tool needed for success. And he, Omega, would wield it.

Sighing, Omega put the glove down and leant on the window frame, glancing up at Gallifrey's dual rising red suns. Hitting Mount Lung at just the right angle, the unseasonal snow sparkled and lit up the red grass like rubies. They reminded him of Patience’s red hair – Patience, the only person on Gallifrey who he would be sad to see the back of while on his mission. He might have gone to stand outside and admire it, were he not so busy. Taking a deep breath and glancing once at the door before back at the sky, he pulled the tinted glasses over his eyes and prepared to get to work. Pythia help anyone who thought to interrupt him today!

\---

Omega cursed, High Gallifreyan of course. Any novices passing his private chambers in the Prydonian Academy (as Rassilon, naming himself the Earl of Prydon, was calling it now) would be less likely to understand him. It wasn't as though he cared about personal appearances - he wasn't Raz, preening himself whenever he thought that nobody was looking and a few times when he knew that people were. But it would hardly do, on the eve of his expedition, to make a name for himself as Omega the -Mouthy-. What would that do for his chances of a little glory for his hard work, hmm? Absolutely nothing, that's what. But still, interrupting him, just as he'd gotten back to work on the flux defibrillator for his prototype TARDIS' engine room? The people out there just he knew that people were. But it would hardly do, on the eve of his expedition, to make a name for himself as Omega the -Mouthy-. What would that do for his chances of a little glory for his hard work, hmm? Absolutely nothing, that's what. But still, interrupting him, just as he'd gotten back to work on the flux defibrillator for his prototype TARDIS' engine room? The people out there just didn't get science, not one bit. They had no respect for the underdog with the cables, only the glossy alpha. Well, Rassilon might be the Alpha but -Peylix- was the Omega. The be all and end all. And when he ended an era, he would be the Alpha of the new era of Time Lords. The Alpha -and- the Omega, and -revered-.

Slamming his goggles onto the top of his head and lobbing the tool in his hands against the wall, Omega didn't even bother trying to control his temper. The suns were well and truly up now, and the grass was no longer glittering. There was nothing cheerful in the scenery, only the cold, red, dispassionate landscape of a planet which could be so much more. It did nothing for Omega's mood. At least, he reasoned, there were plans for a new Citadel in place, a grander city, a New Gallifrey, as it were. Glass domes (fortified glass to keep out the elements of the Shining Seven Systems), orange granite... Of course -his- other invention would be the backbone of the entire city; Validium, the living metal. Another project that his ridiculous professor Luvis had knocked down prematurely. A material which - although almost sentient - could reform itself if destroyed. Should Gallifrey ever revert to a mindset primitive to engage in warfare, it would be a valuable asset. Of course, with Raz at the reins - manipulative, vindictive, obsessive and aggressive - there was no telling what might happen. For now, Validium would hold the new Citadel together. Omega would see the finished construction when he returned from his mission.

Reaching the door, he brushed his eyes, thoughtfully, leaving a trail of burnt soot across one cheek and the side of his ski-jump nose, then ran the same hand through his hair to give the short blond a dirty appearance. Opening the door roughly, he was well aware of the vicious look on his face.

“Who dares disturb Omega?!" The side of his eye twitched, and he took a deep, warning breath. "Aren't you aware that I'm busy?"

\---

Omega blinked, answering out of auto-pilot. The clothing was strange enough without the irregular questioning, as well. What year is it indeed. "Ninth year post Pythia's Era. So-called Rassilon's Era, as you should know." He snorted disdainfully, studying the bizarre youth. Fly-away hair, telepathic capability, and... Frowning, Omega lifted a slim needle-like device from the chest pocket of his lab coat, prodding it in the man's direction without asking for permission. He lifted it back to his face when it beeped thrice, peering at the tiny, and analogue reading and managing to wipe even more soot onto his eyes in the process.

“Bowties are not cool." He muttered, not shooting the youth a glance. "They're 'hippy' at best. Reserved for Sol-3 experts and those protesting Rassilon's rule. Not that I object to the latter, of course...”

He trailed off, and his scowl deepened. Yet a weight seemed to lift from his shoulders. He was being interrupted, yes, but this was interesting. Possibly important. The machine declared him to be Gallifreyan, as per Omega's suspicions, but there was something else there, too... "You have two hearts?"

\---

“Of course I only have one heart, the binary respiratory system is only an idea. My idea, I might add." Omega frowned, pulling an irritated face. Who did he think he was playing? And if he had stolen -his- research, to fund his own project behind Omega's back...! "Did you steal my notes?" He slammed the door shut, rattling on it's stone hinges, and glared at the youth he had let into his private quarters. "Try to surpass Omega, hmm? Well let me tell you, it's not going to work. I am going to the star alone tomorrow," Well, with Vandeceerium, but why bother listing him? He wasn't all that important, in the grand scheme of things, he was still a student. "And I will have the glory of the eve of Time Travel." He puffed up his chest and folded his arms, goggles slipping from his head to hang around his neck in his fury.

As for the other question... Now that one didn't even make sense yet. It had to be Rassilon's Era. Did the lad not know he was on Gallifrey? Was he mad, or just stupid? He was definitely Time Lord, but a mutation on the genetics, on the species. Omega refused to believe that time travel had been achieved before him... It was his creation! He was the mastermind, no one else! He pouted, then forced his features to relax, storming across the room and clearing a space on a chair. "Sit. Of course it's Rassilon's Era." He kept talking as he walked across the room, ever the raging storm, pulling out miscellaneous tools some of which were yet to see the light of day. Such were his own creations his own creations. "But if you ask me, it should be Omega's. Rassilon used my creations to fuel his revolution... Had he used less brute force, there would have been less casualties and the Pythia's followers would not have been forced to retreat to Karn. I'm telling you, the Sisterhood will be nothing but trouble. Especially with the Elixir of Life in their hands and not on Gallifrey.

Hoisting a scanner from one hand to the other, he placed one end on the other Gallifreyan's chest and one end in a solution of chlorine and DNA. Samples he had around for his studies into the capacity for regenerative abilities to mirror those of animals in the Sol system who could re-grow limbs. If they could re-grow entire bodies, then potentially, the Time Lords would never have to die. But of course compared to time travel, other projects had been pushed to one side. Other scientists were in charge of this one. Even if the lad did look more fascinated than guilty.

“Who are you?”

“I’m the Doctor... I think. And Omega.” The Doctor frowned, pushing the machinery away, “You and I need to have a little... Talk about some cracks in time and space you’re going to create one day.”


End file.
